Revenge of the Salt Shaker
by Twitch Hopeless-Savage
Summary: The Salt Shaker has returned and it's back with a vengeance. Read as it haunts Ron's every step and drives him almost into insanity. Mwahahahahaha! R
1. Default Chapter

**Revenge of the Salt Shaker-**

It is completely unexpected. One second you're merrily salting your food and the next tragedy strikes. You take a bite of the scrumptious looking pasta but all you get is a mouthful of salt.

No one knows when or where it will strike. But beware it lurks in the cupboards and spice racks of almost every human on this planet earth.

It isâ **The Salt Shaker. **

If you aren't careful you could be next.

Dun, dun, dun.

**Chapter One: The Return of the Salt Shaker**

The day began like any other. Ron got up, went to the bathroom, and plodded tiredly to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of coffee to have with his bowl of cocoa puffs.

Everything seemed normal as he opened the kitchen door. Yep, even the garden gnome Hermione used as a doorstop looked normal. Despite its large red nose and drugged, cheerful expression.

Ron greeted it good morning and propped it in front of the door so that the smell of brewing coffee would wake up Hermione.

The sky outside the small window was grey and dark. "Tut, tut it looks like rain," he muttered to himself, reciting a line from some stupid muggle movie Hermione had made him watch when she had a fit of nostalgia after seeing it at a thrift shop.

The movie was about some bear named Winnie who happened to be a Pooh. When Ron had asked her what a Pooh was Hermione had just laughed and told him to watch the screen. Winnie also liked hunny. Tigger did not. That was all Ron had gotten form that experience.

He turned away from the window and his gaze was instantly drawn to the centre of the table in the next room over. Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. It was back. There was the evil little salt shaker that had managed to ruin the anniversary dinner he had planned for Hermione.

It was always there but after that fateful night six months ago it had become docile. It never stepped out of line once.

Now it seemed to back and with a vengeance. An air of malice and fear inducing anger seemed to come off it in waves.

The gnome fell away from its position on the door slammed shut in Ron's face blocking out the image of the shaker.

Ron screeched and dived for cover. The only cover happened to be a small step stool that Hermione used to reach the higher shelves of the cupboards. He found it hard to wriggle beneath it. Too much of him was still left out in the open.

The kitchen door opened and Ron almost squealed with happiness as Hermione's feet came into view. He tried to separate himself away from the step stool and did so with only a little fight from the article of furniture.

"What the hell is going on in here?" she asked, propping the jolly ol' gnome back in it's place of honour. Ron stood up, his face glowing red and fearfully peered over Hermione's shoulder into the dining room.

The table was bare, no salt shaker in sight. Ron looked about his feet expecting to see it scuttling across the floor towards his box of cocoa puffs. He quickly grabbed it off the shelf and held it close to his chest.

"Okay somebody still needs their cup of coffee," Hermione said.

"Yeah, need coffee," Ron agreed still watching every inch of the room that he could possibly see. No sign of it anywhere. But it wouldn't hurt to bring in reinforcements.

"I'll be right back." Ron dashed out of the house and into the back garden. Crookshanks was in the yard hunting gnomes, which were much uglier than the doorstop gnome. Though they didn't give off that odd sense that they would kill you in your sleep if you weren't careful. It was the red nose. There was just something about doorstop gnomes with red noses.

Ron picked up the cat, which meowed angrily, and ran back into the house before it started to rain.

"You're looking for a little glass shaker with white dust in it," he whispered into Crookshanks' ear setting him down on the kitchen floor.

"Okay something is definitely wrong here," Hermione said pulling out her toast from the toaster. "You usually ignore Crookshanks' presence. Now you deliberately go out of your way to bring him before it rains? What's up? Is it about last night? I know I should've prepared you for it."

"No it wasn't about last night," Ron said, hopefully watching Crookshanks prowl around the room. "Its just that last time Crookshanks stayed out in the rain he came in all wet and slept in my chair. I had a wet bum for weeks." He spun the lie so quickly that he didn't have time to worry about Hermione seeing right through it. She didn't.

He would've warned her that the salt shaker had come back but last time she had laughed. It would be her fault if it got her.

"Okay. Can you get me the cinnamon for my toast?"

Ron nodded and sauntered over to the spice rack watching his step. Wouldn't want to accidentally bump into It.

He reached for the cinnamon but his hand froze. Snuggled comfortably between the nutmeg and the cinnamon was the salt shaker. If it had a mouth if would've grinned maliciously and told him that no amount of water could save him now.

Ron screeched and backed away before it had a chance to get him. Not this time.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked looking up from the paper an owl had just delivered.

"How the hell did the salt get there?" He pointed a shaking finger at the spice rack. "It was just on the dining room table."

"I moved it. You forgot to put it back after dinner. Oh no. You aren't still going on about the evil salt shaker. How many times have I told you that it isn't evil?"

"N-no," he stammered looking everywhere but at Hermione or the spice rack. His gaze finally decided upon a piece of oatmeal lying on the floor.

"Good. Now can you get me the cinnamon?" She went to the paper. Good ol' Hermione. Not even the presence of an evil salt shaker could frighten her.

"Sure," he whimpered, slowly reaching for the cinnamon. His fingers slipped around it and he pulled it out quickly. Unfortunately he did not come out of it unscathed. His pinkie had ever so lightly brushed the salt shaker and it had angrily bitten him. Not physically, but mentally. He held felt it lash out. Now he was really in for it. The salt shaker was on the warpath.

Ron handed the cinnamon to Hermione and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard. He sat down to make his cocoa puffs completing forgetting the complimentary cup of coffee. His eyes never left the shaker.

"I'm watching you," me muttered to it viciously.

"What was that?" Hermione asked, still chewing on a piece of cinnamon toast.

"Nothing," Ron said, glaring at the spice rack, daring the shaker to say something.

This was going to be a long day.

(To be continued n chapter twoâ)

A/n: Okay that really freaked me out. I don't know why but now I'm scared of salt shakers.

Anyway I'll try to update if you promise to review. We'll make it a deal. No cheating.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: Stick 'em up**

"Salt Shaker wants to see you in his office," Reba said, poking her head into Ron's cubicle. He was busy writing a humorous story for tomorrow's Daily Prophet. It was about a young man haunted by the presence of a possessed head of lettuce.

"What?" Ron jumped at the mention of the Salt Shaker. He quickly reached for his wand.

Reba gave him a quizzical look. "I said that Misses Ticklefeather would like to see you in his office."

"Oh." So she hadn't mention the Salt Shaker. He was just being a little overcautious. The possibility that it had actually followed him all the way to work was absurd. Right? "Okay I'll be right there. I just have to finish this paragraph." He tried to concentrate on finishing the first paragraph but now his mind was on the salt shaker, again.

"Salt Shaker Salt Shaker," Reba said looking at him worriedly. His eyes were darting each way. "Ron! I asked if you were okay?" She grabbed his shoulder and shook it slightly.

He grabbed a water bottle out of one of his drawers and held it in front of him. "Get back, you!" he shouted, aiming it at the giant Salt Shaker blocking him into his cubicle. But the Shaker was gone. Reba was standing there now looking completely frightened.

"**Where has the little devil gone now?" **he demanded, standing up and peering over the walls of his makeshift office. People were staring over at him looking confused.

"Who, Ron?" Reba asked slowly backing away. Ron saw this and again pointed the water bottle at her chest.

"You're hiding it aren't you? Turn out your pockets." He could see the little shaker peering at him laughing maniacally.

"I think you've gone a bit bonkers," Reba said, trying to get away. Ron squirt a warning shot and pointed it back at her. "It's You-Know-Who!" she shouted pointing over Ron's shoulder, ready to scurry away.

"Who gives a damn?" he muttered. "I have bigger fish to fry. Now hand over the Shaker and no one will get hurt." This time he actually squirt her. It dripped down her shocked face.

"You squirt me," she said in an unbelieving voice. "You actually squirt me."

"Someone get a paper towel over here, **now!**" commanded the man in charge of the Quidditch Section. "And hurry it up. We have a sopping wet woman over here. Shhh... it's okay," he said in a calming voice, helping her into his chair.

Ron dropped the water bottle in horror and fell into his own chair. He'd squirt someone. He'd actually squirt someone. Did that make him a criminal now? That damn Salt Shaker. It had probably set all this up. Curse it, we hates it.

The two guys in charge of the newest wizarding fashion stepped into his cubicle and bound his arms with ropes emitted from the tips of their wands.

"I demand my lawyer!" he shouted, trying to wiggle loose form the ropes. "Innocent till proven guilty. I never meant to squirt her. It was an accident."

They lifted him up to his feet but his legs fell in and he tumbled the floor. Ron knew that his face was, at this point, probably redder than his hair. In fact it was probably redder than a tomato (pronounced ta-MAH-toe. None of this ta-MAY-toe crap for him).

"No funny business," they warned him, lifting him back to his feet.

_Funny business? Who are _they_ to say that to _me_? They're the ones that are wearing pink robes with rhinestones embroidered into them. Does that one have a donut tattooed on his ankle? Yes, I believe he does. What a freak._

They dragged him into the aisle and all the time he was cursing the Salt Shaker. It was probably laughing real hard right now snuggled safely in Reba's pocket.

Everyone backed up as he was dragged past them. Some of the women shielded their eyes and the men comforted them. So this was what it felt like to be considered a dangerous man.

Ron could see the headlines now. "Psycho redhead squirts co-worker. Blames it on evil salt shaker." He would die of shame. That was not something he wanted.

"I really didn't mean to," he began pleading but stopped when he saw his pathetic face mirrored in the glass of a painting. With his bright red hair and freckles he looked like a kid being dragged to the Headmaster's office for setting off a dungbomb in Mrs. Norris' mouth.

He looked back once and saw Reba's face. Tears of fear were streaming down it. He was so busted.

As he passed another painting he saw the Salt Shaker silently jeering at him.

"I control your life now. Remember, Ron. Salt kills." Its grainy voice echoed in Ron's head.

Breaking free from his captors he smashed his foot into the painting obliterating the image of the taunting Shaker.

Everyone gasped, and drew even further away. He looked around at them but they were all gone. Giant Salt Shakers were there in the missing peoples' stead. They made a huge pathway and he was dragged down it. The Shakers stood there stoically, making Ron's fate seemingly ominous.

He hung his head in shame and when he lifted it again he was in front of his boss' office and all the people had returned. No more Salt Shakers.

"This is serious business, Mister Weasley." His boss' voice emitted for the office. It sounded slightly disappointed. "Please step into my office."

Ron pushed open the door and stared at the lithe form of his boss sitting on her desk. "Shut the door behind you."


End file.
